


Coping Skills

by cytheriafalas



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:36:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytheriafalas/pseuds/cytheriafalas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from my tumblr. Angsty smut a la I Seen A Man in which Taemin and Minho are "in like some weird fight thing or broken up or somethingggggggg andddd tae comes onto minho but minho is like no we can't and then tae gets even more upset.... OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT." So yeah. We got something like that. Ends almost exactly at the beginning of I Seen A Man. I don't consider this a "sequel" to ISAM, but it is sort of written that way. Title is partially inspired by my job, so... it probably won't be as funny/ironic(?) to anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coping Skills

It was stupid. Taemin knew _knew_ it was stupid because he was _twenty fucking years old_ and he was _not a child_. But no. No, that wasn’t good enough for Minho, who was not even _twenty-one_ yet, having been born in December, which was clearly as good as January and _stupid_. He was older and _wiser_ and, ‘no Taemin we work together’ and fuck if they hadn’t already been as good as dating for the last three years of their lives. And as if they hadn’t already had their share of sex. If he’d thought about it, which he hadn’t because it was _stupid_ , he’d have had to realize that this had nothing to do with any of that. No, it had everything to do with the fact that SHINee had to play this _stupid fucking balancing act_ between the sweet and cute little boys that had debuted _years earlier_ and the group of young men in their twenties.

It confused all of them, the ‘boys, please act your age!’ usually followed by the expectation that they smile sweetly and hang innocently off one another, and then the ‘you are not fresh debuts, boys, come on,’ which implied skinship on par with Super Junior.

The contrasting expectations had taken a toll on each of them, and they were dealing with it the best they could. Jinki withdrew when they weren’t on stage, leaving Kibum to do his best to draw him out again. Jonghyun spent most of his free time in the gym. Kibum became the group shrink, or at least their shoulder to cry on when there was nothing else they could do. Minho, well, Minho was gone so Taemin had no idea what he did, except that it took him away from Taemin _all the fucking time_ despite his promises that he would be back before dinner, he would spend some time with Taemin before he went to bed, he would be there right at the very beginning of their practices. Taemin… Taemin danced until he couldn’t stand.

Whenever they were all snapping at each other, swearing that _I told you this half an hour ago_ or _Just get out_ or whatever the hell else they got annoyed about, Taemin left. He went wherever he could. Sometimes the manager could be convinced to take him to the SM building, other times Taemin went up on the roof, much to their manager’s apprehension that he would _fall off_ , which was ridiculous.

But none of that mattered because Minho was _finally_ home, _finally_ sitting on their couch and they felt right again. Well, it felt right to everyone but Taemin, because Minho had only wrapped one arm around him and then gone straight to the kitchen to dig in their fridge for some food. He said he still had a few days of filming left, one or two scenes that need touchups before he was really done, which didn’t help. Taemin wanted him _home_ where he belonged.

Normally he would have sat up with Minho, desperate for a little bit more time with him. Tonight, Taemin just sent Minho’s back a dark look and went into his bedroom. He hadn’t managed to fall asleep by the time the door opened again and Minho crawled into bed with him.

“Are you still awake?”

All of Taemin’s anger faded at the sound of Minho’s voice, deep and quiet and right in his ear, not over a phone or over a computer speaker. He nodded.

“I’m sorry, baby. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He felt Minho’s breath against the back of his neck. “You looked really good at the performance today. I wish I could have been there.”

Part of Taemin wanted to tell him he _could_ have been there if he wasn’t out filming all the _fucking_ time, but instead he just stayed silent. That drew a soft sigh from Minho, but the older man wrapped his arms around Taemin and pulled him in close.

His anger melted again and he turned in Minho’s arms, slinging an arm over his waist. He tilted his head up, just barely brushing their lips together and he felt Minho stiffen, head pulling back.

“Taemin-ah…”

“What?”

“You know we can’t.”

Taemin’s lips twisted with annoyance and he pulled away, putting his back to Minho. “You have your own bed.”

Minho was silent for a second, but he removed himself from Taemin’s bed. Taemin heard him go into his room next door, and his bed suddenly felt too big and too empty without the other man, but he reclaimed his blankets and wrapped them around himself.

His bed shared a wall with the other bedroom and he could hear the soft murmur of voices through it. He fell asleep to the unintelligible sound of Jonghyun and Minho talking, fancying that every so often he could hear his name.

The next morning, Taemin was extra affectionate to Kibum, keeping to his side during breakfast. Kibum gave him an odd look but passed it off, used to Taemin’s quirks. He let Taemin take Jonghyun’s usual seat in the car ride to practice without complaint. Jonghyun took Taemin’s place beside Minho. Both men were surprisingly subdued, but Taemin didn’t waste his time caring.

The rehearsal was intense, more intense than usual. Their choreographers and vocal instructors and managers and some of the higher-ups in the company were all there. They couldn’t afford to be distracted, but fortunately for them, they were all professionals. They had been at this long enough to pretend nothing was wrong, and have people believe them.

It wasn’t until one of the few breaks they were allowed, when one of the higher-ups had to use the bathroom, that one of the managers realized something was wrong. The five of them had all collapsed to the ground, too tired to even get their water bottles. Jinki had stopped closest to the pile and was rolling the bottles to their owners. They had dropped to the ground almost in formation, all except for Taemin, who had walked halfway across the room to fall at Kibum’s side, resting his head in the older man’s lap. For his part, Kibum just ran his fingers through Taemin’s sweaty hair and continued his conversation with Onew.

The manager gave them a look, eyes flicking between Minho and Taemin. It wasn’t so unusual for one of them to be so close during a break, even if they were sweaty and too warm, but if Taemin had wanted a pillow, Minho _and_ Onew were significantly closer.

He didn’t say anything, not with some of his bosses in the room, but Taemin could feel him watching him more closely for the rest of the rehearsal. However, even he could find nothing for which to fault them, at least from a professional standpoint. Some of their hits weren’t solid enough, they missed some of their notes, but it was a good rehearsal. Lee Soo Man congratulated each of them personally, reminding them to work on some individual weak point.

They were gathering up their stuff when the manager finally stepped in. He pulled Minho aside first, speaking to him in a low voice that nevertheless carried across the room.

“Is everything okay between you and Taemin-ah?”

Minho glanced over at Taemin, saw him looking, and looked away again. He bent to retrieve his discarded sweatshirt. “Yes.”

“Minho-ah, I’ve known you for years now. Something isn’t right.”

“It’s nothing,” Minho said, straightening and avoiding looking in his manager’s eyes by focusing his gaze in the mirror and fixing his hair. “There’s nothing wrong.”

Unable to get anything more from Minho, the manager looked toward Taemin. Rather than facing a similar line of questioning, Taemin wrapped an arm around Kibum’s shoulders and spoke a little too loudly.

“Let’s get ice cream!”

The suggestion sufficiently scandalized their manager who assured them that they could _not_ get ice cream until this round of rehearsals and shows and publicity and this and that and whatever the fuck else was over. Besides, he had to drop Minho off at the soundstage so he could get started on those touchups. There just wasn’t time.

Taemin knew the distraction was only temporary and eventually the manager would be back to try to figure out what was wrong and try to head off disaster, but it was sufficient, as one manager took them back to the dorm and the other brought Minho to his filming.

The other four were more than pleased to have the evening off after a rehearsal like they had. They spent two hours just relaxing, before Jonghyun suggested they go out to eat. Kibum refused immediately, planning to take a nap instead. Onew agreed to go along but Taemin decided to stay behind as well. A plan was sparking in Taemin’s mind, inspired entirely by a hole in his chest that Minho should have been there to fill and by Kibum’s body stretching up as he yawned.

“You should have gone out with them,” Kibum said, fighting another yawn. “It’s not like anything exciting is going to happen here.”

Taemin disagreed. He disagreed so emphatically, in fact, that he stepped up to Kibum, resting his hands on the other man’s waist. Kibum’s eyes widened a fraction and he took a half step away, not quite enough to break Taemin’s hold on him.

“Taemin-ah, what’re you doing?”

“Minho-hyung doesn’t want me,” Taemin said, stepping back in, closer than he had been before. “Do you want me?”

“Taemin-ah…”

He slipped his hand beneath Kibum’s shirt, palm sliding up his stomach and chest, feeling Kibum tense beneath his fingertips.

“C’mon,” Taemin whispered, nosing along Kibum’s throat. “It’s just sex, Kibum-hyung. I know you and Jonghyun-hyung do it all the time.”

“It’s different with Jonghyun and me.”

Taemin laughed, nipping sharply at Kibum’s earlobe, earning a shaky groan in response. “Don’t be dumb. You know he was with some of the SNSD girls last night anyway.”

“That’s not what I… We’re not… Taemin-ah, this is going to mess things up between you and Minho.”

“They’re already fucked. Doesn’t matter.”

Kibum wasn’t fighting him anymore. If anything, he was leaning a little into Taemin’s touches, head tilting back for more of his lips. Taemin trailed his lips across Kibum’s cheekbones, down until their lips met, tugging at Kibum’s lower lip until the older man made a sharp sound.

“C’mon, hyung.”

Kibum hesitated. He heaved a heavy sigh and then nodded, lacing his fingers through Taemin’s hair and tugging his head down for a kiss. Taemin didn’t bother to fight down the sudden wave of triumph within him, channeling it into the kiss. They broke apart long enough for Taemin to rip Kibum’s shirt over his head.

They made their way back to their shared bedroom, bumping into walls and catching shoulders on doorways, until they stumbled against a bed. Taemin shoved Kibum back onto it, pausing to pull his own shirt off, and then he eased himself down on top of Kibum.

He slid one leg between Kibum’s, pressing forward until the older man’s arm snaked around his waist, holding him in place, back arching.

“Fuck, Taemin-ah.”

Taemin rocked forward, just a little, waiting to see what Kibum did next. His grip tightened, fingers digging into Taemin’s waist. He arched up again, seeking more contact.

“Something you want?” Taemin whispered, kissing his way down Kibum’s chest. He ran his lips across Kibum’s nipple, tongue darting out to tease the nub, then sucking it into his mouth.

“You don’t get to proposition me and then— _oh, Taemin-ah, fuck_ —tease me.”

“It’s called _foreplay_ , hyung.” He reached down and palmed the bulge in Kibum’s jeans. He moaned, hips bucking up, hands grabbing Taemin’s ass through his jeans.

Kibum undid the button on Taemin’s jeans, sliding them down his thighs before he even had a chance to protest. He kicked the pants off, kissing and biting his way down Kibum’s stomach, feeling his body jerk with each bite. His soft moans were getting louder with each press of Taemin’s hand.

“Seriously, respect your hyung,” Kibum growled, fisting a hand in Taemin’s hair and tugging just hard enough to send a spike of pain down Taemin’s spine.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll make you blow me before you even get any.”

“Yeah right.”

Kibum glared at him and Taemin finally took pity. He was already aching and aside from that brief contact earlier, he hadn’t even been touched yet. He unbuttoned Kibum’s jeans and turned to dig the lube out from underneath the bed, where Kibum thought he was sneaky hiding it, letting the older man tug his skinny jeans off. By the time he’d found it, hidden behind a box wrapped in sweatshirts—and Taemin had absolutely no desire to _ever_ find out what was in the box—, Kibum had gotten his clothes off.

“Ready?”

Kibum just nodded, eyes hooded and lips parted. His skin was flushed, marred and bruised where Taemin had sucked and bitten on his way down. Taemin spread some of the lube on his fingers and eased his index finger inside.

“Fuck!” Kibum hissed, grabbing Taemin by the back of the neck and tugging him down for a kiss, the heat of his mouth as scalding as the heat surrounding his finger. While Kibum was distracted, Taemin slid his second finger in and Kibum’s hips pressed down. “ _Ah_ , come on. Stop wasting time.”

“Condom?” Taemin asked. Normally he would have been more concerned with making sure his partner was better prepared, but he was pretty sure Kibum would kill him if he took any longer.

“Bottom drawer,” Kibum answered. He groaned when Taemin withdrew his fingers, fingers clenching on the pillow above his head. “Taemin-ah, _hurry_.”

He rolled the condom on and took a brief second to apply the lube. He pressed up against Kibum’s entrance, hands resting on his hyung’s hips, holding him steady. Taemin waited a few seconds and then began pressing inside, slow but without pause. Kibum cried out, body going rigid at the intrusion, but within a few breaths, he eased.

Taemin let out a ragged moan, dropping his head just to give himself a few seconds to regain control of himself. It had been way too long since he’d had any sort of sex, and Kibum was almost too tight, legs wrapping around his waist to hold him in deeper and it was one of the best things he’d ever felt.

At Kibum’s urging, he began to move, and the pleasure rippled through his body. Kibum was already stroking himself, biting down on the heel of his other hand. Taemin leaned down, pushing Kibum’s hand aside with his jaw so he could hear the cries he tried to stifle.

“Fuck, Taemin! _Fuck_.” Kibum bit down hard on Taemin’s shoulder, and Taemin’s body jerked, pushing in deeper in a way that made Kibum’s back arch. “Oh, god. Fuck!”

Taemin braced himself on his hands and did his best to repeat the angle, until his muscles were burning from exertion and Kibum’s voice was ragged, nails scratching welts into Taemin’s back. It wasn’t long after that that Kibum’s back arched one final time, mouth falling open in a silent cry. He came into his fist, onto their stomachs and chests and Taemin followed shortly after, crying Kibum’s name against his neck.

His body felt numb as he pulled away, tossing the condom into the garbage beside the bed, and then falling to the mattress. It wasn’t the good kind of numb, the tingling in toes and fingertips, although that was there. He chose to focus on that first, on the rippling aftershocks of the orgasm climbing through his body as he reclaimed his breath. Surprisingly, it was Kibum who recovered first, climbing unashamedly naked from the bed, moving to the bathroom and coming back with a washcloth.

Taemin had been lying with his eyes closed, letting Kibum clean him off, but he opened them when he felt the press of Kibum’s lips to his forehead. This kiss was gentle and without any sort of sexual overtones, accompanied by Kibum’s hand running through his hair, the way a parent comforted a child.

“That didn’t make you feel any better, did it?” Kibum asked.

“No,” Taemin said, leaning down to pick up his clothes from the floor.

Kibum yawned, tossing the washcloth aside and curling up on the bed. “I’m sorry, Taemin.”

“I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Kibum said, but he let Taemin go.

Taemin took a quick shower, just enough to wash the sweat from his body, and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, over another pair of shorts and a long-sleeve t-shirt. He managed to bully one of their managers to drive him to the building to practice, promising to call a cab for the ride home. He let himself into the building and then into the room he usually claimed for himself. It was only about eleven and a number of the rooms were still occupied by trainees, but most of them knew it was unofficially Taemin’s.

He slipped his iPod into the dock, starting up a playlist he’d put together a few weeks ago. It held most of their songs with choreographed dances so he could practice by himself whenever he wanted. Taemin took a deep breath and waited through the seconds of silence before the first notes started up. He stepped into position, back to the mirror that served as the front of the stage. He would dance until he knew what to do, or until he couldn’t keep himself on his feet any longer.


End file.
